


Fire in the Blood

by bubblebangbaby



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anxiety, Day 3, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Pegoryu Week 2018, ryuji's birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 00:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15158060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblebangbaby/pseuds/bubblebangbaby
Summary: He should be over stupid things like this. Like the rainy season. Like old hurts that ought to be ancient history by now.Like birthdays.





	Fire in the Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Finally... Finally I finish something for Pegoryu Week... and on the right day, even...
> 
> Happy birthday, Best Boy!

He starts to get anxious when the rainy season rolls in. His skin is too tight, too smothering in the humidity. Too hot inside, too wet outside. He used to go running in the rain, come home sopping wet with his mom yelling at him not to move out of the entryway before she can get a towel over him. But now his leg twinges at the first sign of rain, burns from the inside out as the season rolls on and on. He used to make fun of old people and their meteorological knees. Not any more.

He’d really hoped it would be different this year. Everything’s changed this year. He can move again, run again. He’s alive and in love.

He’s a goddamned superhero.

He should be over stupid things like this. Like the rainy season. Like old hurts that ought to be ancient history by now.

Like birthdays.

It feels like it’s never going to stop raining and his clothes and hair are never going to be be dry again, just permanently damp and sticky and miserable. Class is over and he still feels trapped. He wants to go anywhere but home.

 

**Ryuji:** hey dude, you busy?

**Ryuji:** maybe we could go to Mementos today, blow off some steam

**Ryuji:** this rain is killing me

**Ryuji:** feel like a wet sponge lol

_Please say yes. Please please please…_ He doesn’t realize how tight he’s clutching his phone until it buzzes in his hand, sending pins and needles through his fingers.

**Akira:** Sounds good. I’ll round everyone up.

 

“Headed out again ma, see you!”

He’s out the door and on his way to Leblanc before his mom can even respond. It’s better like this. He can avoid her too. It’s not like he doesn’t want to be around his mom, he loves her. But just… not today. He can’t take the look in her eyes today, the little hints that maybe he’d finally like a cake this year, might like to invite a friend over or something. Better this way, out with his friends who don’t know what day it is, but know his other, less pathetic secrets.

This year, he can fight back, hit back at _something_ and win. It’ll be better.

He’s the first one there, ready and raring, barely greeting the boss before taking the stairs two at a time, rushing into Akira’s room and bounding up to him. The attic’s too quiet for him, too small to fit the tension inside him and all around him. Morgana hops up on the windowsill and arches his back at the clatter. Even Akira looks a little startled to see him like this, looking up from his janky little laptop to shoot him a bemused look.

“Hey… You’re early. And, uh, damp.” Ryuji runs a hand through his wet hair and shakes his head, laughing awkwardly.

“Yeah, uh… Ran part of the way, train was too crowded.”...And the train was too much, too loud and too full of people pressed close to his skin, making him want to scream, to pick a fight. He doesn’t say it out loud. It’s stupid.

But damn it, Akira can read him like tea leaves, can see the past scattered across his face and all his future fuckups in the lines of his limbs. He gets up from his desk and slinks closer, silently pulling a towel out of the cardboard box of his old life and handing it to him. He has that look like he’s working on a puzzle he already knows the answer to, but wants to find a better way to get to it.

“Why don’t we just hang out today instead?”

“Huh? Nah, man, I’m looking forward to some action today! ‘Sides, ain’t everyone else on their way?”

“Makoto got held up and Yusuke didn’t answer. Told everyone to hold off for now. I guess you didn’t check your texts on your way?”

Oh.

Feeling like an asshole, he pulls out his phone to check the group chat. Of course. Just like he said. God, he really is the biggest freaking idiot ever born, isn’t he? Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Morgana stride forward and start to say something, but Akira looks over at him with a glare that could melt steel. Without a word, the cat hops out the window onto a jutting pipe, and vanishes. Damn it. He’s really done it this time, huh? What a stupid thing for him to mess up, and now Akira’s clearly mad and about to—

Akira gently plucks the towel out of his hands where he’s been mindlessly twisting it, and drapes it over his head. Without a word, he scrubs it trough his hair and down his neck, leaving him a little less soaked through. Then he drapes it over his shoulders and goes back to the box, pulling out a dry t-shirt and tossing it at him.

“Here.”

Oh.

“Gonna get some coffee, I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, uh. Thanks, man.” And just like that, he’s vanished down the stairs and Ryuji is alone with his shitty brain again.

 

_“_ _Don’t you fucking touch her again!”_

_“Th’ hell did you say, you little shit?”_

_“You heard me! Fuck you, old ma—gah!”_

 

Ryuji flops down on the couch and shakes his head hard, yanks his wet shirt over his head so he can dry himself off a little better and pull on the clean shirt. He wishes he could go back out and run. He wishes they were in Mementos right now. Anything but sitting still. His leg is jittering wildly and his knee is screaming in pain, but it doesn’t matter. He pounds his fist on his thigh a few times, relishing the sting.

 

_A crack to his ribs and his breath is gone and he’s lying brokenhearted on the kitchen floor while his mom screams out, putting herself between him and his dad, waling away at him with her little fists until he backs down, screaming and raving about what an ungrateful bitch she is and how he wishes_ _they were both_ _dead_ _and that brat’d never been born_ _and on and on._ _Ryuji_ _doesn’t get up for a long time. When he does, it’s to slink off to his room alone, ashamed to face her._ _She shouldn’t have had to protect him._

 

He can’t stay still. He jumps up and paces up and down the attic floor. Under his feet, he can hear the murmur of the cafe: the whoosh and burble of the arcane coffee equipment, the scant few elderly patrons chatting loudly while the TV chatters in the background. It’s usually nice, soothing even, but right now, it’s getting under his skin. Everything’s getting under his skin.

 

_“Yo, Sakamoto!_ _Whatcha doing here, isn’t it your birthday?”_

_“Ah, whatever man, that’s kid’s stuff. I’d rather be runnin’ with you guys.”_

_“That’s why he’s the ace, ya lazy bum! C’mon, let’s get warmed up.” He jogs after his teammates, eager to get started. This is good. This is so good. He can stay late at practice, get some food after. Run off all this weird anxious energy and come home loose-limbed and content and go right to sleep. No stupid lizard brain checking for a drunk dad who isn’t there any more. No having to give his mom excuses about not wanting anything from her today, really, it’s ok…_

 

“Here. Extra sugar, like you like it.” Akira’s voice jolts him back to reality. Right. Stupid memories. Stupid rain.

“Thanks, babe.” Akira’s sweet, fleeting smile drains away a little of the tension in him, feeds in a little bit of something glowing-nice instead.

“No problem.” He takes a tiny sip from his own cup, and Ryuji can’t help but watch him, entranced by the neat, precise movements of his hands, by the angle of his shoulders and the delicious curve of his lips. God, he’s always so calm and steady when all Ryuji wants to do is fly apart. He’s a lighthouse in a storm, a beacon that pulls him in and directs him true. “So what’s up, hm?”

“Eh? Oh, it’s nothin’, just, like, been cooped up in the rain, goin’ stir-crazy, you know?” He tries to smile like always, pretend he’s not lying. It’s working, isn’t it?

“Mm.” Another slow, deliberate sip of coffee. He realizes his good leg is bouncing again, the traitor. “Sorry Mementos didn’t work out,” Akira says.

“Aw, it’s cool. I’ll figure somethin’ out.” He’s still smiling a smile that feels all wrong, and now he catches Akira’s eyes by accident, sees the knowing, worried look in them. _Shit_. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, I’ll get outta your hair in just a bit.” He smiles wider, more insistently, more fake.

“Or you could stay. I’d like that.”

“...Oh. Yeah, sure, just don’t wanna impose.” _Don’t want you to see me like this, don’t want to blow up at you for no reason, don’t want to have to tell you why…_

Akira sets his coffee down on the floor, very deliberately, and then takes Ryuji’s cup from him too, setting it on the table. Cups safe, he slithers onto the couch and into Ryuji’s lap, straddles his thighs and wraps his arms around his neck.

“You’re never imposing. And… if there weren’t people down there, I’d help you work off that stir-crazy.” The flash of Akira’s wicked grin makes him smile for real, and he slides his hands up under his shirt to pull him closer, to ground himself with the weight of the body in his arms.

“Heheh. Guess I gotta stay till closing, then, huh?”

“Mm-hmm. It’s the only way.” Another flash of that smile, god, that smile that _does things_ to him every time. The crawling under his skin takes a turn south and turns to another feeling that’s just as goddamn frustrating. He buries his face in Akira’s shoulder and groans miserably. Akira just runs his hands up and down his back and through his hair, which is very much not helping. He makes a soft, thoughtful sound that says he’s got that searching look on his face again. “You know what? Let’s go to Mementos anyway. Just us.” Ryuji’s head shoots up, and he stares Akira in the face, confused. Yep, that’s the look.

“Huh? That ain’t safe, is it?”

“Morgana’s probably just down the street, I’ll sweet-talk him into coming too. We’ll stick to the top floor.” He leans down to nuzzle at Ryuji’s ear and murmur low, “C’mon. Let’s go wild.”

Damn.

“And after...” Akira’s voice takes on that irresistable husky tone and his teeth find Ryuji’s earlobe. “After, I’ll fuck you so hard you forget your own name.”

_Damn_!

How can he say no to that? The fire in his skin roars back to life again, and it’s something hungry now, poised and ready to strike instead of crackling aimlessly. It’s all he can do not to leap up and tackle his boyfriend to the floor right there.

“Oh _hell_ yeah! Goddamn, Akira…” Akira kisses him, quick and sweet, and gets up to pour their coffees into the thermos he brings into the Metaverse, freeing Ryuji to hop up off the couch and start to stretch. God, Akira always knows how to make everything better, even when he doesn’t know why things are out of sorts.

 

_He limps out into the rain, hoping not to run into any of the team on his way out. The cast is finally off, but it’s still hard to make his way around sometimes, especially when it’s wet like this. He’s not so lucky. As he gets outside the gate, there’s a wet impact on his shoulder and he stumbles, falling hard on his good knee. The can of soda one of the guys threw at him rolls down the sidewalk. He picks himself up and doesn’t look back._

_“Is there anyone you want to invite over tomorrow, honey?”_

_“Nah, ma. But uh… Could I stay home tomorrow? Just this once?”_

 

When the world shifts around them, it feels _good_ for once _._ The air is gross and full of creepy sounds like always, but it’s dry. And when Mona shifts forms—still bitching to high heaven, but compliant—he gets to hop in the front seat, right beside Joker.

“Get ready, guys, Shadow coming up already.” Ryuji grins, wide and fierce.

“I’m _so_ ready. Let’s get ‘em!”

He piles out first and runs for it, slams his bat down on the first demon so hard the impact jars him all the way up to his shoulders. Damn, it feels good. All that anxiety, that crackling energy, that waiting for the shoe to drop, it all burns away with the explosion of violence, channels straight through him and turns the ugly shadow to ash. He smacks Akira’s outstretched hand with a whoop and watches him dart in, slicing the second shadow to bleeding ribbons that fade to nothing. He twirls his dagger and grins over at them.

“What were you worried about again, Mona?”

“Okay, jeez! Let me get a hit in next time!” Ryuji laughs out loud, and that makes him feel good too, fills that wibbling space in the pit of his stomach with something warm and good.

“No promises, dude!”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go, you idiots.”

 

_He’s eight years old and his mom is_ _waiting for him at the school gate, a big white box in her hands and a smile on her face. Two of his friends pile in beside him, yelling._

_“Izzat cake?!”_

_“Oh man, I thought your party wouldn’t be till Sunday!”_

_“Can we come too?”_

_His mom shifts her burden and gives him a quick one-armed hug. “’Fraid not, boys, this is just for Ryuji today.”_

_“Awwww!”_

_“You gonna eat the whole thing, Ryu-kun?”_

_Ryuji’s grinning so hard his face hurts as he hugs his mom back. “Sure am gonna eat the whole thing! Right mom? Can I?” She throws her head back and laughs, and it makes him start laughing too._

_“You sure can, honey. Don’t worry boys, there’ll be more cake at the party Sunday. See you then.”_

_They’re all yelling thanks and jumbled goodbyes and demands to make good on the promise as his mom leads him toward the station. Instead of taking the inbound train toward home, though, she heads toward the other platform, Ryuji_ _trotting along behind her_ _._

_“Where’re ya goin’, mom?”_

_“We’re gonna go to the park and eat this cake. Your dad should already be there,_ _we’re gonna make a real picnic of it_ _.”_

_“Mom! Yay!”_ _He circles around her all the way into the train, so happy he feels like he might burst._

 

They’re making their way back up to the top floor again, exhausted and reeling. Akira’s arm is slung over his shoulder, Ryuji’s is wrapped around Akira’s waist in turn. It feels so good to have him close, even as sweaty and filthy as they both are. A quick Dia had taken care of the broken nose a too-quick shadow left him with, but his face is still covered in blood. His face, and most everything else. Mona hops along ahead of them, beating them to the escalator.

Everything hurts, but it’s a good hurt. He feels heavy, steady, rooted to the ground. The ache of bruises gives him something to focus on, has his skin feeling right again. Even his knee feels better, away from the city rain. He’s grinning so hard his face hurts.

When they get to the top, Akira grabs him and pulls him in for a kiss, smearing blood across both their faces. It’s searing and sweet and perfect, and when he pulls him close and whispers in his ear, Ryuji feels his knees go weak, a jolt down his spine yanking him upright and filling him with guilt and fear and blessed relief all at once. How does he always _know_?

“Happy birthday, Ryuji.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yell at me on [tumblr](bubblebangbaby.tumblr.com)!


End file.
